Stereotyped
by Sequ3stered
Summary: Personality is in the eye of the beholder, and here, they are the beholders.
1. Cold

Stereotyped  
A fanfiction by Sequ3stered  
  
[[ **Summary** ]] Adjectives describe people, and others use their own labels. But personality is in the eye of the beholder. Here, the beholders are themselves. Spoilers. [Repost]  
  
[[ **Author's Note** ]] I got flamed before with this fic, but I think this will work better, although I didn't change this much (as a repost). This fic will be short; three chapters. The first one is about Sasuke, the second about Sakura, and the third about Naruto. This is about the way that they think. The chapters will be short. This is **not** a bashing of anyone.  
  
[[ **Disclaimer** ]] I do not own Naruto in any way.  
  
**Chapter One**: _Cold  
_  
First Mind: Sasuke  
  
Many suspect that beneath my exterior, there is a warm heart. I would love to laugh in their smug faces and spit on their thoughts. I have no love. Only a ruthless desire to become powerful. I want to see the looks on their faces when I crush their loved ones before their eyes.  
  
Why would I do such a thing?  
  
They've tried to connect with me, feel my pain, and try to understand. But the only way one can do so is if they've felt the same sensation of loneliness, helplessness, weakness, and fury. Rage at the entire realm that seems to be so damned cheerful without my quota of joy.  
  
So I'll kill those close to them. Murder them. Slaughter them. Blood will pour. Life will cry. Death will relish in the fear and misery that he has condemned them to. Then they will be able to share my yearning to inflict horror upon everyone else.  
  
So they'd understand.  
  
They call me uncaring. But I used to care for people. Look what it did to me. I protected my team only because they had not tried to get beneath and take a peek at what was truly inside. But then they did. Sakura wanted to.  
  
I don't care for them anymore. I'm not like them.  
  
Naruto may believe that he is like me, but he cannot hate whoever made others detest him. Still, he was the closest I ever had to anything that resembled a friend. Which is why I must murder him.  
  
The ones who attempt to pry into my thoughts are the ones that will be my first victims when I ascend to power. When I slit Itachi's throat. When I insert a kunai deep into his heart. When he feels the agony of vulnerability and sorrow. When he regrets ever allowing me to live and pursue the special Sharingan technique. When I triumphantly burn his remains and scatter them over the graves of my parents.  
  
I will then take Orochimaru and force his blood out until he dies. I will betray him. And everyone else. That is what I wish to experience---that I am the most powerful.  
  
Grieving. Grieving. Grieving. I spent my life being a pitiful little boy who mourned the loss of his parents and snubbed everyone who tried to get close and heal him. But I never wanted to be healed. I had made up my mind that as long as I had the wound, I could never allow it to close and it would spur me on. It is a constant reminder to back away whenever someone invades my personal space.  
  
I constantly told myself I was an avenger. And I am.  
  
And yet, they say that I am simply antisocial and scarred by my past.  
  
To have scars, I would have to have a closed injury.  
  
Rebuilding my clan will take years, but I can wait. I am different from everyone else. I am only willing to degrade myself to have offspring to have the Uchiha Clan restored to its prior power and numbers. The banner of the Uchiha will be imprinted in every mind; all will fear, all will respect.  
  
There are stickers in the minds of all. There are those who peel one off and paste it to a person at first sight, branding them without knowing. Judging without caring. They are the ones that may later tear the stickers off painfully and reevaluate the victim. There are those who scrutinize others and finally press the sticker on them, never to be removed, even when proved wrong. There are also those who dump the stickers in the garbage and use permanent ink.  
  
I have labels and writing all over my skin that others have pasted on me or scribbled. They all generally say the same thing. That I'm cold.  
  
However, I'm not cold. I'm frozen solid, with no chance of sunlight.  
  
But they call me cold.  
  
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A writer's best inspiration is a great review.  
  
(Coming soon) **Chapter Two**: _Girly and Ordinary_ (Second Mind(s): Sakura) 


	2. Girly and Ordinary

** Author's Note ** Sakura deserves, like the rest of her team, to be unzipped, dissected, and observed so that she might get more respect. I'm just showing an angsty, deeper side that may be sitting right underneath the thin layer of skin. Thanks for the support. Review answers are located at the bottom of the chapter.

** Disclaimer ** Naruto---not mine.

**Chapter Two**: _Girly and Ordinary_

Second Mind(s): Sakura 

There's a difference between someone's appearance when they're scruffy and when they look neat. I had always evaluated how much time it seemed to take a person to get ready, and appraised them by how much they cared for themselves.

But I can't do that anymore.

Everyone values power. If you aren't blessed enough to have it, then you are not good enough to be registered on their lists of people to acknowledge. I used to wonder why.

I realized that I was the underdog in those who truly mattered. Sasuke didn't give my hair a second glance or notice the copious amounts of time I'd wasted brushing my locks until they were as lustrous as the stars. I had slashed off the majority of my hair so that I could prove to him and everyone else that I didn't care about it anymore. And I did stop caring.

However, they continued to jab at me, saying I had no talent at all and that I was just an ordinary ninja.

There are those who have enormous power and those who do not.

I fall in the latter category.

So love is nothing to one who desires only monstrous strength and chakra. Love is untainted affection that rises deep from within. I'd give anything…anything…to have him back with me. But love isn't strong enough, is it?

I had always quelled my inner thoughts with heavy reminders that my reputation would be ruined.

But what does it matter when no one cares of recognizes you as good enough?

It doesn't.

Inside, I feel agony. Raw agony. They say I have the perfect life and that I should be happy. But everyone has their splinters. The flesh of my life has been pierced with hundreds of splinters, not all from my experiences, but from what I have seen with these two eyes and heard with these two ears.

Such a good actress deserves plaudits for her outstanding job at convincing all others that she is content. I long to tear off my Outer Sakura and let everyone gape at what is inside. Turmoil and grim defeat. There is no hope for those of us who have suffered and never gotten any pity. But attention and pity is what we all desire, is it not?

Necklaces of horror at the past and bracelets of fear adorn my neck and wrists. Pieces of my heart have been torn out and nothing has come to sew the remainder back together. What is the use of having a heart if no one cares to feast their eyes on it?

They say that my circumstances and my feelings are common; that I shouldn't feel so special for having them. But what they say doesn't change those feelings.

I am the one that represents the lost soul that has sunken into the depressing mud of everyday life. No tragedies, but no revolutions that left me as high as my spirits could take me.

To be a regular person…isn't that also difficult? They assume that, because I haven't had a demon sealed in me or had my parents slaughtered, I am not worthy to be part of their self-compassion.

What if the one you loved had never been yours to have and had scorned you?

What if he went away of his on accord?

What if he wanted only to kill, and you couldn't change him? You'd be completely helpless and be scrambling at every chance you got to help him, wishing that you could do something.

But you couldn't. It wouldn't be a very pleasant feeling, would it?

I'm the altar on which people throw their grievances, saying that they have more to worry about than me. But I simply smile and nod, absorbing what should make me more grateful for my life but only makes me desperate for the hatred that they all seem to have in abundance. I would want to be like them, having "reasons" to hate others. For they continue to call me those names that describe everything that seems to be associated with me.

I'm everything that is neglected by others, what seems to be commonplace, but truly gives as much agony as what they've been through...because others say it doesn't hurt. I am the things that everyone says isn't "bad."

But they call me girly and ordinary.

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The best time to write is right after someone has encouraged you.

(Coming soon) Chapter Three: **Stupid and Naïve** (Mind Three: Naruto)

** Review Answers **

AnimeFreakPerson: I got the inspiration for it a long time ago, when I was studying (ahem, actually daydreaming). Thank you for your kind words. ; wiggles frantically to show…happiness 

MaroonSorrow: Wow. I'm glad my fic (before) affected someone so…er, impossibly. It's an awesome feeling. nods I really, really, really appreciate your review and I've updated quickly, revising the Sakura chapter a bit. I haven't written the Naruto chapter yet, since I deleted this story before I got to him, but I'll get there. Thank you AGAIN!

Angel of Ice: Thank you. Your words made me feel accomplished—amazing, what a little click and a few kind things can do.

Jewel Song: 'Beautiful' made my muses tingle in joy…and me shiver. Because now someone really wants them to continue kicking me until I update. Which I did. :3


	3. Stupid and Naive

** Author's Note ** Sorry about the long wait. I thought I'd stop writing this angst fic, since it's been a REALLY LONG TIME and it's outdated…but…I…had to finish. Enjoy.

** Disclaimer ** Naruto—not mine.

**Chapter Two**: Stupid and Naïve

Second Mind: Naruto 

On normal days, after the academy, you could find me training in the morning, a folded ticket for ramen tucked snugly behind my forehead protector or sitting patiently in my pocket. Generally, you could expect to see me wolfing down unhealthy noodles and gulping down the liquid that accompanied it before skipping off to do whatever I'd planned. Basically, training.

After I joined a team, nothing was really different. I would, instead of being by myself, train beside a surly, pale boy and the love of my life.

But whatever. What's important is that I've always tried so hard for one thing.

I've waited a long time for someone to recognize me, to realize I'm stronger than Sasuke, to see me, me, me, there, powerful. Hinata once told me I was strong.

She lied.

I've often wondered, is it my strength or is it the Kyuubi's? Then, if I win using its chakra, am I not cheating? I did not truly defeat my enemies. I cheated. So, I must ask myself, am I the strong one, or am I stealing power from a creature encased in my body?

I've sat, contemplating the reasons that I'm still here, not the Hokage. Is it an empty wish that turns away every time I rush out to touch it? I want to grasp it; put my fingers on it and feel its tangible warmth.

No matter how hard I try to keep it within my fingers, I can't help but let it flutter out, like steam.

Patiently, I wait for them to acknowledge me. But to them, I'm a lack wit; someone who can't even pass Iruka-sensei's exams or perform the proper jutsus to be seen as Sasuke's equal. To teachers, girls, boys—Sasuke's the golden boy. He's cool, powerful, and has such an "attractive" personality.

They know—or think—he has experience.

They think that I don't know sadness, or pain, or loneliness, like him. Or at least, he thinks so. But I've felt it, if not worse. At least people approached him as a child! I was never caught in an embrace, never felt that warmth of arms around me, so similar to the feeling of power, the feeling that I'm one step closer to being a Hokage.

Sasuke once told me that I never knew how it felt to have your most important people taken away from you in one single, brutal strike.

But he's never known how it feels to never have had anyone and to be shunned your entire, pathetic life.

I'm not stupid.

I can tell they're afraid of me for something I did not do. How can I become the Hokage with that kind of attitude following me like permanent glue? It smirks at me with the knowledge that I am alone, ignored, and hated. They will never want me to be the Hokage.

But it's not their choice.

It was the Fourth's.

Oh, they adored the Fourth Hokage. They revered him and idolized him. I am the last piece of his work left in Konoha. Why is it that they love him and hate me? He chose me to keep the Kyuubi stuck in my body. I was _chosen_ for this job.

And yet, they deny of me my rightful place.

So what if this power isn't mine? Don't I deserve something? Happiness? No, I do not. I have already stated that I am not clueless. I know that you must use every advantage you have, but stealing strength from someone else who is unwilling to give it is not the same. So I don't deserve to be Hokage, then, although the Fourth gave me this responsibility. This responsibility should show them that I am capable of being Hokage.

But they call me stupid and naïve.

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The End.


End file.
